no one has to know what we do
by Lebreau
Summary: Her hands are in my hair, my clothes are in her room. And her voice is a familiar sound. [sivir/cassi] [human cassi, sorta modern au.]


_title/summary are from Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift, which is one of the many songs spotify wrecked me with while I was trying to write. Thanks, shuffle._

* * *

It's dark, as it always is, when she knocks on the door. She hates herself for being here again, for being weak enough to _need_ to be here. The door swings open, and she can barely make out a movement beyond it, behind a curtain that covers the bedroom. Of course the lights are off, and her partner in crime has retreated to the bed. They prefer not to look at each other, for that makes the pain more real.

She slams the door as she shrugs her boots off, ignoring the sand she tracked onto the pretty, expensive carpet. She's tracked worse in, before. Blood, mud, even oil once or twice, to say nothing of the biting words and empty expressions exchanged in the entry way. Shaking her head and pulling her headscarf off, she shoves the feelings down, back to where they belong. Where they can't hurt her. She's not here for that, oh no.

An impatient sigh beckons her from the other room, reminding her what she _is_ here for. She crosses the space quickly, slipping past the curtain and quickly losing herself in her lover's arms.

"What took you so long, Sivir?" Cassiopeia hisses, running her long, gold-painted nails down Sivir's back, tracing her spine through her shirt.

There is no answer, as she prefers to limit their conversation. She busies Cassi's mouth with a kiss instead, deep and full of longing and hatred and a plethora of other emotions, none of which they care to voice. Her hands roam along the other woman's nearly bare back, finding the clasp of her bra and pulling away slightly to remove the lacy, strapless thing. She explores the now-exposed skin hungrily, fingers spread out and nails digging in gently, just a touch of pain to go with their pleasure.

Not to be outdone, Cassi wraps her arms around Sivir's shoulders, pulling her closer to the bed and maneuvering her backward until Cassi feels her legs hit the mattress and they fall back into a heap of limbs and kisses. Having the mercenary where she wants her, she moves to her next target, and begins slipping Sivir's pants off. Her own follow, and they're laying there, barely wearing anything and gasping for breath, and a tiny sliver of self-loathing slips in past the joy and the contentedness and how _right_ it feels to be here with Sivir. But no, they've convinced each other and themselves that there is nothing but hate between them, that these moments do not exist.

Sivir brings her back to the present with a rough kiss, and Cassi realises that Sivir has done her job for her, removing the rest of her clothing. A smile creeps onto her face as she feels Sivir's hands around her waist, rubbing gently and then dipping lower, caressing her inner thighs with a gentleness that is unlike either of them. Before she can say a word, Sivir is sliding the last piece of clothing either of them has down her legs, and she is lifting her hips off the bed to let her. This is unusual, Sivir taking the lead, but she is not going to fight it, especially when Sivir has moved her hand back up and is doing _those_ things again.

Caught up in the bliss, Cassi isn't sure when her fingers became tangled into Sivir's hair, or when she started biting down on the wrist of her other arm to stiffle the moans of joy, because she has neighbors and an image to uphold, after all. But soon she's shoved all thoughts of neighbors out of her head, because Sivir's fingers have just started stroking a particular spot and Cassi can barely wrap her head around the things that the mercenary's tongue is doing, and oh _god_ where did she learn that?

Her world fades out for a moment as she rides the wave of pleasure, but soon she gently removes her fingers from Sivir's hair, and sits up, shaking slightly, because _damn_ that was good, and most definitely worth the way she's going to hate herself in the morning. Scooting closer to Sivir, she turns the other woman over, fully intending to return the favor - only better.

And she does, using every trick she knows to draw delightful sounding groans out of the beautiful woman in her bed. But eventually it is over, and they are both tired. She lets the other woman draw her into her arms, pretending that they are truly lovers, that there is no bad blood between them, and that Sivir will still be here when she wakes up. But she knows better.


End file.
